Qualities Worth Having
by CorvusCorvidae
Summary: The day Santana met Quinn's family was, without a doubt, one of the most stressful days of her life. It wasn't the typical, 'oh I'm meeting my girlfriend's family, better be on best behaviour' type of stress. It was more along the lines of 'I have drugs in my back pocket and you're all cops' type of stress. AU. One-shot. Quinntana Week - Day Three - Meet the Family.


Quinntana Week – Day Three – Meet the Family

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Qualities Worth Having

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The day Santana met Quinn's family was, without a doubt, one of the most stressful days of her life.

It wasn't the typical, 'oh I'm meeting my girlfriend's family, better be on best behaviour' type of stress. It was more along the lines of 'I have drugs in my back pocket and you're all fucking cops' type of stress.

Safe to say, that wasn't the norm for most.

So yeah, thanks, Quinn for that heads up. She could have mentioned that her family was having a big brunch for what looked like half a fucking police precinct, with uniforms galore, and oh yeah, a big fucking police dog called Duchess looking at Santana like she just knew what was in her back pocket.

A tiny bit of weed suddenly felt like a kilo of coke, and where the hell was Santana's oh so charming girlfriend to help her get out of there without looking suspicious and flush the drugs?

Quinn wandered in the room only moments after Santana's arrival, to see her girlfriend standing in the hallway, not moving. She frowned before heading over, taking Santana's hand in hers.

"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost," Quinn muttered, frowning.

"Yeah, I have. Mine," Santana puffed out, her eyes not leaving the room overflowing with cops in front of her. They were everywhere, with their intimidating uniforms and scary ass looking smiles.

"Huh?" Quinn shot her girlfriend another look, now very confused.

"Q, I have weed on me," Santana whispered, swallowing the lump in her throat as she spoke.

Really, Santana should have just made a break for it the second she saw the first police officer. But no, she'd been frozen to the spot after having let herself in. Quinn had shown her where the spare key was, and she had been told to use it in the text she'd received that morning. There was nothing out of the ordinary about that, but the sight before her, that was exceedingly extraordinary.

"You what?" Quinn barked, her eyes going wide, swivelling her body so that she was standing directly in front of Santana.

"We were going to shotgun weed tonight, so I brought fucking weed, and now your whole family turns out to be cops," Santana whispered a little bit louder, more panicky.

"What are you even…" Quinn sighed loudly, not able to deal with her girlfriend's nonsense. They had bigger fish to fry. "Just…just go upstairs, empty it in the toilet, but like break it up so it doesn't clog, and then come back down. No one will know," Quinn answered after a moment of thinking, looking around the room carefully, smiling at those that had clocked her talking to someone new. Introductions would need to be made, but not just yet.

"Whoa there partner, where you sneaking off to?" a man's voice boomed, startling them both.

"Uncle Rick, Santana doesn't-" Quinn began, but was promptly cut off.

"Oh, so this is the mysterious Santana?" he oohed, looking her over. "Heard a lot about you," he said, grinning, and it felt like he knew something Santana didn't.

"Not all bad, I hope."

"Jury's still out," he joked, looking serious for one split second before laughing. Santana fake laughter in response was not convincing, Quinn knew it, uncle freaking Rick knew it, but it was the best she could do while having a complete meltdown.

"Hey, guys, have you met Santana?" Rick called, leading Santana into the living/dining room, where everyone was congregated.

It was then a mix of hellos and anxiety as Santana was led around the room, shaking hands with each police officer present, and being given a brief job description. By the time she reached some of the guys on the drugs squad, Quinn's freaking cousins!, she was so close to passing out, it wasn't funny.

"That's enough for now, I think," Quinn said, coming in to rescue her girlfriend. "There's no way she'll be able to remember all these names and faces." The lie slipped easily from Quinn's lips, which wasn't something she was going to think about, as she led Santana back towards the stairs.

"Make a break for it now, just head on up and I'll cover for you," Quinn whispered as they moved closer.

Santana was about three steps away from making her exit when it was all shot to hell, again.

"Where you off to?" Quinn's sister, Frannie, asked, placing her hand on Santana's shoulder. "Brunch is being served, and trust me, you want to get your helping before this lot. They won't even leave you the scraps," she joked, which was followed by another nervous laugh from Santana. Though, it sounded a lot more like a whimper and a whine.

On one hand, it was great Frannie was being nice and welcoming, but the cop uniform and the stern look Santana just knew she could harness meant it was damn near impossible to be friendly in return. Maybe once she had ditched the weed, they could talk, but until then, Santana was sweating bullets.

Returning back to the dining area, Santana watched as the guys helped carry all the found and place it on the available tables, with plates and cutlery lying out for everyone to help themselves.

"Girls, come and sit down," Rick called, waving them over, and there was no escape.

Quinn shot her a look, to just go for it, to make that quick escape, but Santana wasn't an idiot. She knew it would be obvious something was up, and while she was a damn good liar, there was just no way she could convince a room full of cops that she was overcome with food poisoning or was close to pissing herself. It wasn't going to work.

So instead, she squared her shoulders and made to follow Quinn, who had moved through the room and was collecting some food for herself.

Going over there was easy, or so she thought, but there was one obstacle in her way that she had no clue how to get round.

Santana tried to stay as far away from the big ass German Shepard staring at her, but that was so hard. Made so much worse when she literally had to walk past Duchess' makeshift bed to get to the table Quinn was standing at. Yeah, Santana was fucking doomed from the start.

It was as though Duchess was getting some sick pleasure from it, because she waited until Santana had made it three paces past her before barking like mad. Not the 'let's play or you stepped on my tail' bark, but the 'you've got drugs and unless they stop me I'm going to tear you a new asshole' bark.

If Santana hadn't been shitting it before, she was now.

"Duchess!" one of the guys at the table called out, frowning. "Stop it, girl, sit back down." His voice was commanding enough for Duchess to stop barking, but she didn't take her eyes off Santana.

Hurrying to stand next to Quinn, Santana grabbed a plate and put some food on it. Normally, she'd be fucking psyched about the pancakes and the bacon, but nope, with the hair on the back of her neck standing on end and her fight or flight senses in overdrive, she couldn't even admire the good food before her.

She was moving on overdrive, which worked great until Quinn stopped moving, causing Santana to bump into her arm. Her girlfriend was looking at her like she had grown a second head, and the panic was setting in Quinn's features.

"You need to calm down or they'll realise something's up. They're cops, they sniff this sort of stuff out all the time," Quinn whispered, relieved that no one was close enough to hear.

"The damn dog has already sniffed it out, Quinn. What do you want me to do?" Santana replied, looking over her shoulder to see Duchess still watching her.

"Act normal." Yeah, like that was fucking easy.

"I can't act normal, this is my worst freaking nightmare."

"Wow, thanks, Santana," Quinn replied, sass in her words, and now was not the time for them to start fighting. Just no.

"You don't get to be pissy right now, Princess. It's my ass going to jail if I get caught with this shit," Santana muttered, making it look as though she had just planted a kiss on Quinn's cheek.

"Fine. Give it to me." Had Quinn lost her mind? Clearly, because that suggestion was just stupid!

"What? No," Santana argued, shaking her head.

"Why not?"

"Because you have more to lose than I do, so just tell them I'm nervous and want to make a good impression or something, and whatever you do, don't let the damn dog near me." Quinn rolled her eyes but nodded, taking Santana's clammy hand and moving them to the table.

She purposely sat them as far as Duchess as possible, but that also meant they were right next to Quinn's father, Russell. He was enjoying his brunch, only occasionally stopping to comment on something that was being said, but it was his gaze that was more worrisome than anything else.

Santana could feel him looking at her. She could feel him judging her, trying to find a flaw in her armour, and yeah, right then, there were many of them. To combat his heavy gaze, Santana just focused on her food, eating it without really tasting it, and trying to stay out of any and all conversations.

"So, Santana," Frannie grinned, cocking her head to the side. "Ever been arrested?"

"Frannie!" Quinn barked, glaring at her sister, squeezing Santana's thigh under the table.

"What? I'm just curious. If I wanted a proper answer I'd just run a check on her."

"Oh my God, stop!" Quinn whined, shaking her head in mortification.

"She has a point, Quinn," Russell said, finally speaking up. He then turned to Santana, raising his eyebrows, as if that suddenly meant she was to answer.

Shit was too scary not to.

"No, I've never been arrested," Santana replied, her voice sounding foreign to her. It was a shakier than she recalled it ever being.

"Ever broken the law?" Russell asked.

"Who hasn't?" Okay, maybe that wasn't the wisest question to ask a room full of cops, as it certainly caught a lot of their attentions. The whole room now seemed interested in where that damn conversation was going.

"Had sex?"

"Dad!" Quinn cried, slamming her hand on the table.

"What? I wasn't specific."

"You don't need to answer that question," Quinn said, looking at Santana softly.

"Eh…yeah, I have," Santana answered anyway, not too concerned.

"And with my daughter?" The room was silent, waiting, before Russell started laughing. Fucking terrifying. "I'm kidding, I don't want to know, I'd probably have to shoot you if I did."

Suddenly the weed in her back pocket wasn't such a big deal.

"No, but let's get serious again," Russell began, quieting the rest of the laughs at the table. "Ever been drunk?"

"Yes."

"Ever done drugs?" He waited, and as the silence wore on, more and more of them looked up from their plates to stare at Santana.

"Yeah, I have." There was no point lying about it, especially if they ended up finding the damn weed in her pocket.

"Well, I hope those are all past vices, and not current ones," Russell said, turning away from Santana, to look back at Frannie. "Anything you want to ask?"

"Nope, think you covered it," she said, and Quinn's exasperated sigh was heard from the other side of the table.

"You are the worst family ever," she murmured, shaking her head and squeezing Santana's leg under the table.

"What? We're looking out for you, Quinn, that's all. You don't mind, do you, Santana?" The fact her answer was already provided for her told Santana exactly what move to make next.

"Not at all," she replied, nodding soundly. Maybe if she just went along with it, all would end well.

"See?" Russell replied, pointing to Santana, smiling. "Anyway, enough. Rick, tell them about that arrest you had last week." That seemed to be the end of that conversation, and Rick immediately moved in on his story, leaving Quinn and Santana to pull themselves back together.

Once the room was talking loudly enough, Quinn leant over, her mouth against Santana's ear.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, pulling back enough to look at Santana apologetically.

"Don't worry, it's okay," Santana replied, giving her a soft, reassuring smile in return.

She wasn't actually that annoyed by the questions. Okay, the ambush was scary as fuck, but they were cops, and Quinn was clearly the apple of many of their eyes, given how the whole room seemed to look out for her, so it wasn't surprising. Plus, maybe her honest answers would hide the fact she still had weed on her.

"I really love you, you know that, right?" Quinn added, feeling relief at Santana not having been scared off.

"I know, who couldn't love me?" Santana teased, attempting to look cocky, and making Quinn laugh. "I love you too," she whispered, kissing Quinn's cheek, before reaching for her glass of water.

It was easy enough for them to sit quietly after that, and once everyone was finished, Russell clapped his hands together and thanked everyone for coming. The hustle and bustle of movement and goodbyes meant that now was the perfect time for Santana to make her exit.

"Go," Quinn whispered to her, nudging her shoulder. "I'll call you later when it's safe to come over, and I promise you I'll make it up to you." Santana grinned at the thought and nodded.

Rising from her chair, Santana gave Quinn one last comforting smile, knowing she was done, and headed for the door. She was almost free. It was her time to go, an exit had been made for her, and she was accepting it with open arms.

Only….

"Oh, Santana?" Russell called, effectively quieting the whole room, and making everyone look at her. She turned to see mirth in his eyes, but he still looked like he could crush her with his fist so it wasn't reassuring.

"Yeah?" she replied, sounding pathetic and tired, but fuck, not her fault. She just wanted to go already. Why was the world being so cruel and keeping her there?

"If you ever bring drugs around my daughter again, I'll let Duchess have her way with you." Santana gulped, looking at Duchess who was literally glaring at her, and then back to Russell. "You can leave the bag of weed by the door on your way out." With that, he went back to his coffee and the room moved around her like nothing had happened.

"Yeah, okay," Santana mumbled, feeling like she'd been shot as well as having just dodged a bullet. It didn't make sense, but the door was there so she was fucking leaving, immediately.

Dumping the weed next to the porcelain duck by the door, Santana made her exit, with Quinn following behind her. Obviously they needed to talk about what the fuck had just gone down.

Except, when Santana turned to apologise and freak out, she was met with Frannie, rather than Quinn, and okay, where the fuck had her girlfriend gone?

Was this the part where they said she wasn't good enough for Quinn and to never come back?

"You did good, Lopez," Frannie said instead, grinning. And what the fuck?

"Good?" It did not feel like she had done _good_, as Frannie had put it. It felt like that was a freaking train wreck.

"Quinn didn't send that text; I did."

"What?!" Santana blurted out, shocked. "Are you fucking insane?" That probably wasn't her smartest move, but she had no time to think about it. The words were out her mouth before she could do anything about it.

"Sort of. But I'm also very protective of my baby sister, and I wanted to see what you would do under pressure."

"This…this was all a set up?"

"Something like that," Frannie hummed, shrugging her shoulders. There was no two ways about it, though, it was exactly like that.

"So everyone…everyone knew I had that weed on me before I walked in?" Santana barked, her world spinning.

"No, you could have turned up without it." Well, shit, yeah, but the idea of shotgunning with Quinn was fucking hot, so no, of course she went and got the weed. "Plus, Quinn didn't know. She was as scared as you were throughout all of that."

"You're all psychopaths," Santana declared, devoid of any emotion, her brain overloading with all the new information she was receiving.

"Yeah, but psychopaths in a uniform," Frannie grinned, and that did nothing to help Santana feel better. "Relax, Lopez, okay? You did good. You didn't let Quinn take the fall for it, which hello, we all thought she would, you didn't run out there immediately, you didn't break down and cry your eyes out, and, you left the weed on the table on your way out."

"I still don't know how that's good."

"You had your partner's back, you played it cool, you didn't cave under pressure, and you were honest with us through interrogation. Those are pretty good qualities to have; or at least that lot think so," Frannie explained, jerking her thumb to point to the house behind her. "You passed the first test, so relax."

"The first test?" Santana repeated, feeling horror creep up her spine.

"Yeah, next time you'll wake up in the back of a squad car. You need to talk yourself out of the charges before you arrive at the precinct. If you fail, you'll be charged and locked up until someone posts your bail. If you get bail, that is. We pull the charges out of hat, it's pure luck." Slowly but surely, Santana felt all the blood drain from her face.

"I'm kidding," Frannie laughed, getting far too much amusement from that situation.

"I don't think you are," Santana groaned, feeling queasy at the thought.

She was fucked. She was in love with a girl who had the craziest fucking family in the world, and they had guns and badges to make it all look kosher. She was completely fucked.

"Whatever, you did good," Frannie repeated. "We like you, so come back some time, just leave the weed at home, yeah?"

"Sure," Santana said, nodding, as if on autopilot.

"Now, I better go, Quinn needs to scream at someone who won't be her boss one day."

"Her what…Quinn wants to be a cop?!" That thought was scarier than the whole damn day she'd just experienced.

"Maybe. That a problem?" Frannie suddenly sounded and looked like the protective older sister she claimed to be, and not the psychopath of moments before.

"No, shit, no. Just means I should probably stop breaking the law so often," her answer was honest, blunt and it earned a bark of laughter from Frannie.

"I like you, Lopez. You're going to be a lot of fun to have around."

"Thanks…I think…" She really wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not.

With a wave goodbye, Frannie headed inside, and Santana was left standing on the porch of the Fabray's house, looking completely lost. It felt like her whole world had been turned upside down. It was definitely, without a doubt, one of the most stressful days she'd ever experienced, and she hoped there would not be a repeat of that anytime soon.

Grabbing her phone out her pocket, she sent Quinn and text, before making the walk to her car to head home.

_Your family is fucking crazy, and if I didn't love you, I'd be running for the hills. But, seeing as I do, I guess I can stick around to see what crazy shit they do next. Oh, and the thought of you in a cop uniform is surprisingly a turn on, feel like stealing one sometime? Role play can be fun X _

Moments later, she got a reply;

_Role play is fun, but do you know what's better? Me actually arresting your ass for encouraging my baby sister to commit a crime! Frannie X _

Okay, so maybe Santana needed to rethink things. Today was not one of the most stressful days of her life, it _was_ the most stressful day of her life. Nothing could top it. Ever.

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